


The Dread Wolf and the Tree

by a_facade



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Spoilers, possible future smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_facade/pseuds/a_facade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of Solas and Lavellan. Hunter and Hunted. </p>
<p>Or, is it the other way around?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this tale in my head for a while. Our little Ellana's got a secret. Might start out kind of fast-paced, but will likely slow down to explore the characters more. I needed to set some background quickly, but didn't want to start in Haven.
> 
> Some dialogue taken from Inquisition - I do not claim to own that dialogue nor the characters or the worlds.

Her bow, her arrows, her speed, and her grace.

He watches from afar.

She pulls three arrows out of her quiver, holding them in her draw hand. Three shots, in rapid succession. One. Two. Three.

Three arrows, three targets, three bullseyes.

He sees her, but he does not understand—does not truly see. He does not know that he does not understand.

She laughs. He smiles.

\---

Varric is sitting in stunned silence as Ellana bursts out laughing. “I’ll be damned, Willow,” he finally manages, with a snort.

“You really should spend more time learning what makes Bianca sing,” she chides, trying to calm her laughter but failing quite miserably. This is the mask she wears around Varric: dirty humor and playful friendship.

She likes Varric, though, and this is the first time she’s been able to relax since arriving at Skyhold. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind. Ellana refused to allow herself any recovery time after being rescued from the snow—she needed to help everyone to safety—and almost immediately upon arrival, she was named Inquisitor.

Inquisitor. She’s still getting used to that title. _It doesn’t fit_ , she thinks. But it fits better than the Herald of Andraste. Ellana recognizes the honor in the title (and in all honesty, she _is_ a bit flattered), but that one does not feel right either. Still, she goes along with it all. It makes her people happy.

 _Her people_ , she mulls. _I guess they_ did _become my people_. The thought amuses her, but she pushes it to the back of her mind. She doesn’t want to further insult Varric with more laughter, and with that, she is brought back to the present.

“I expect that drink, Varric.”

“I wouldn’t dare forget, your Inquisitorialness.”

“Shut up!” she calls as he walks away. He knows how uncomfortable that title makes her.

Ellana glances up and catches Solas watching her from the ramparts. She pretends to not notice, stows her bow, and starts towards the entrance of Skyhold. With her back to him, she allows herself a small smile and to embrace the backflip in her stomach. She finds him fascinating; Solas knows more about the world surrounding them than anyone else she has ever met. He is able to see connections held together by a thread so thin, yet is somehow so completely clueless as to the people around him. That, of course, leads many in The Inquisition to poke fun at his expense, laughing at his politeness and his careful caution (Varric even went so far as to lovingly dub him “Chuckles”), but Ellana sees something more.

A messenger finds her as she enters Skyhold, and she’s needed by Leliana. She sighs, though is not surprised, and adjusts her course towards the stairs. She knows Solas will be in there, painting, and she forms a polite smile as she enters the room. This is the mask she wears around him. She has a different mask for everyone in The Inquisition: all snark and smirks around Varric, fake flirtation with Dorian, gossip and giggles with Josephine, business with Cassandra. She learned long ago that people respond favorably to masks that mimic their own, and before long, they usually allow her to see what lies behind that mask.

Solas has rarely allowed her that chance, but she is determined. She will play his game.

“Hello, Inquisitor,” he says as she enters the room.

“Hello, Solas,” she replies, moving past him and ascending the stairs.

\---

It’s late, and Ellana has a warm and delightful buzz. It’s also _loud_ , and she feels a sudden need to leave the tavern. As much as she loves being surrounded by her friends, she never spent much time in human cities (or taverns, for that matter). After a while, all the sound becomes simply _bothersome_.

She stands, and is a bit unsure of her feet. _Dwarven ale is certainly made for those more… more stout_ , she thinks, and steadies herself on her chair. She pats Varric on the shoulder. “Ma serannas,” she says.

“You mean ‘thanks for the lovely drinks,’ Willow?” laughs Varric, and she laughs along with him. She often slips out of the common tongue into Elven after a few drinks.

“Yes, that,” says Ellana, and exits the tavern after saying her goodbyes to the rest of the table (which include a thoroughly smashed Sera, a just-getting-started Iron Bull, and the rest of Bull’s chargers).

Outside the tavern, she hears laughter as the bard starts singing about Sera, but all she really feels is the night air surrounding her. She stretches tall, hands linked above her head, and sighs contently. Closing her eyes, she purges her senses, and lets herself feel the wind and nothing more. The sounds fade away, her world is black. Her casual meditation right outside the tavern would look a bit odd, but she isn’t tired, so she slips off her boots and wanders barefoot through Skyhold. She finds herself at Solas’ door, but it _is_ rather late, so she pauses without knocking.

“Come in,” she hears and pushes the door gently. “Can’t sleep, Inquisitor?” he smiles.

“I don’t really want to,” she states. Her eyes scan the unfinished mural on the wall, and she spins to see it all. It almost makes her stumble a bit, but she is nothing but graceful and manages to easily catch herself.

Solas sets a book down on the table and looks at her. He laughs, gently. “I see Varric made good on his promise.” _Of course he noticed my stumble._

“You _were_ watching earlier!” she exclaims, and a small giggle escapes her. She reprimands herself for letting the mask slip, but Solas knows she has had a few drinks. No point in trying to hide that. “Though, I suppose it’s nothing you haven’t seen countless times in the field before.” Ellana is as competent of an archer as Sera, having spent countless hours hunting throughout her life. Hunting animals before. Hunting humans now. It’s all the same.

“It was an impressive display, Inquisitor. It seems your vallaslin suits you.” She wears the markings of Andruil, goddess of the hunt, though it is ever so slight. She is rather proud of it.

“Ellana, please,” she corrects him. He doesn’t really respond, just smiles with a small nod.

“That’s not why I’m here, anyway,” she sighs. “Since we’ve arrived here, I’ve never really been given a chance to stop and think. I suddenly am realizing that there’s a lot I haven’t considered…” she trails off.

“You’re worried, Ellana?”

“I am, yes.” Ellana looks at her hands—at the anchor. “Do you mind if I ask you about Corypheous?”

“We’ve spoken of this on our travels,” he responds, with a slight look of confusion on his face. “I don’t know what more I can tell you. Cassandra and Varric seem more familiar with our adversary.”

“You’ve given me good counsel before. I could use some now,” Ellana says. _Maybe I shouldn’t have come here_ , she thinks. _It’s late, and he seems irritated._

“My apologies.” Solas smiles at her, and allows her to ask her questions. “I will guess as best I can.”

She stays and chats with him a while. Solas muses about Corypheous’ next move, and tells Ellana more about his orb. Eventually, she runs out of questions.

She doesn’t know if it’s the drink or the easy conversation, but she feels bold. “Solas,” she starts, “I’d love to know more about you. What you told me of yourself and your studies… it really intrigues me.” She is thumbing the papers on his desk, but forces herself to look up—to meet his gaze.

\---

He sees her hunger for knowledge, yet he is still guarded.

He loves it.

Maybe he can share one small moment with her. Maybe he can allow her to see some of the things he can see. She cannot travel into the fade on her own.

He can take her there.

\---

“You continue to surprise me. All right, let us talk…” he says, and smiles softly at her. She blushes a little, unable to hide her excitement at what little he might show her—what sorts of things he has seen over the years.

“...preferably somewhere more interesting than this.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the fade kiss... ever so quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be kind of fast-paced, but the next chapters will slow things down a bit! A bit short since it's posted the same day as chapter one, too.

Ellana steps lightly through the snow in Haven, wandering through the town with Solas. She smiles. It’s peaceful here, and for a human settlement, Haven is actually quite nice. She listens to Solas recant the day he met her, but wishes he would talk about himself. She already knows her story—already knows the story everyone else tells, too.

No one knows—no one _still_ knows—how she was able to exit the rift safely, but she is sure that Solas is the reason her body was able to make it through the torture of both the rift _and_ the anchor.

Still, this is a nice gesture, and the closest she’s been to seeing a far more personal side of him than she’s ever seen before. _Not due to a lack of effort._

She’s looking at the mountains when Solas turns to her. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture… and right then, I felt the whole world change,” and he’s looking at her with those eyes and a slight smirk, and maybe she melts a little despite the cold.

 _He’s letting me in. Just a little._ She might not be winning this game, but she’s not losing either. She chances a step forward. “You felt the whole world change?”

“A figure of speech,” he replies. _He knows he’s not losing the game either_. He’s good at twisting words, but so is she.

“I’m aware of the metaphor,” she responds with her own smirk. “I’m more interested in ‘felt.’”

He’s looking at her, _really_ looking at her, and she thinks she should feel self-conscious about everything: her windblown dark hair, or her vallaslin, or her clothing, or anything, but she doesn’t. He reaches out, touches her anchor. He’s sending electricity through her arm, through her anchor, and it tingles. She feels butterflies. She feels something else, too.

“You change everything,” and he says it with such intensity that for a moment, Ellana doesn’t know how to respond. Slightly embarrassed by being caught off-guard by his sudden forwardness, she lets the words “sweet talker” escape from her mouth while looking anywhere but at him.

Solas takes the compliment in silence, but this isn’t enough, she thinks. He might not let her back in. He might not…

She reaches towards him.

\---

He is at ease. He smiles.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her move. She reaches up, pulls him in. She kisses him.

A deep kiss.

She pulls away.

 _She dared_ , he thinks. He didn’t expect her to be so forward. Not yet. He shakes his head ever-so-slightly to clear the sudden confusion.

He pulls her back. He kisses deeper.

It is dangerous to do this here. For a second, he doesn’t care.

\---

“We shouldn’t. It isn’t right. Not even here.”

“What do you mean, ‘even here?’” Ellana knows she should be confused. She knows he’s playing with words. She plays along.

“Where did you think we were?”

Elanna looks around. The falling snow, the light, the smell. “This isn’t real.”

He smiles. Gently, softly, quietly, he speaks. “That’s a matter of debate… probably best discussed after you _wake up_.”

\---

Ellana gasps.

Deep breath. Deep breath. _Slow your heart_. She steps out of bed and moves toward her balcony, letting the cold wake her up and bring her to the present. The breeze coming down from the mountains blows against her bare skin, and she focuses on her pulse as she looks up at the sky, out at the mountains, down at the snow.

She is not used to exiting the fade so quickly. _Cheeky bastard,_ she smirks. She prefers to gently ease out of her dreamworld, but Solas doesn’t know that.

No one knows that.

She shivers, and steps back inside. Waving her fingers, she ignites her fireplace and gently lifts her hand up to intensify the flame.

She climbs under her sheets.

She sleeps.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kiss isn't as detailed as future interactions will be as I didn't consider it the important part of this story. How Ellana and Solas handle it is more important ;) Sorry for the lack of detail!


End file.
